Back Aa

Ocean Waifs

Close

<h3>Chapter Twenty Five.</h3> <h4>The Catamaran.</h4> Next morning, as soon as there was light enough for them to see what they were about, the work was resumed; and the timbers having been put together in a fashion to satisfy all hands, were lashed to one another as tightly as the united strength of the sailor, Snowball, and Little William could draw the ropes around them. The structure when completed was of an oblong shape,—somewhat resembling a punt or flat-bottomed ferry-boat,—nearly twenty feet in length by about half as much in breadth of beam. The empty hogsheads were placed around the edge in a regular manner. One lay crosswise at the head, while another was similarly situated as regarded the stern. The other four—there were six in all—were lashed lengthwise along the sides,—two of them opposite each other on the larboard and starboard bows, while the other two respectively represented the “quarters.” By this arrangement a certain symmetry was obtained; and when the structure was complete, it really looked like a craft intended for navigation, and by Ben Brace,—its chief architect,—it was facetiously christened The Catamaran. By noon of the second day the Catamaran was completed,—so far as the hull was concerned. Had Snowball been by himself he would have left it in that state: for the black did not yet believe that there was the slightest probability of reaching land by means of such an embarkation. But the sailor,—more skilled in such matters,—was of a different way of thinking. He believed it not only possible, but probable enough, that this feat might be accomplished. He knew that they were in the very centre of the southern trade-wind; and that the raft, even if left to itself, would in time drift onward to some point on the coast of South America. With a sail its speed would be accelerated; and although, thus furnished, such a clumsy structure could not sail very swiftly, there was still a chance of its carrying them safely,—if slowly,—to land. Ben knew it was simply a question of time,—dependent upon how long their provisions might last them,—but more especially their supply of water. Having formed in his own mind a sort of rough calculation as to the chances, and finding them rather in favour of the scheme, he determined on making trial of it, by erecting a mast upon the raft, and to this bending a sail. At the worst, their chances of being picked up would be quite as good while sailing with the wind, as if they allowed themselves to lie adrift upon the ocean. Fortunately the materials for both mast and sail were on hand, and in abundance. They had found the “spanker” of the Pandora floating about, with its boom and all the cordage attached. By using the boom as a mast, and another smaller spar as a boom, they could rig up such a sail as would carry the Catamaran through the water with considerable velocity. As soon as he had fully considered it in his own mind, the sailor, aided by Snowball and Little William, proceeded to rig the Catamaran, and by the close of the third day from the commencement of their labours a tall mast stood up out of the centre of that curious craft, midships between stem and stern, with boom and guy, and a broad sail hanging loosely along its yard,—ready to be spread to the first breath of wind that might blow westward over the ocean. The breeze which had brought Ben and little William back among the wreck-drift of the slave-bark, leading to a renewal of intercourse with their old shipmate, Snowball, had been blowing in the contrary direction to that in which the sailor intended to steer. This breeze, however, was not such as was to be looked for in that latitude. It was only a mere puff,—a cat’s-paw,—in the midst of the calm that had continued for many days after the destruction of the slaver. It had lulled again on the same night in which the rafts had become united; and ever since,—during the three days they had been at work in the construction of the Catamaran,—the calm had continued without intermission. On the fourth day things remained the same,—not a breath stirring from any quarter to ruffle the glassy surface of the sea; which, like a mirror, reflected the odd image of the Catamaran, with her six hogsheads set like bulwarks around her sides, and her stout mast tapering tall and solitary out of her midst. Neither her captain,—Ben Brace of course,—nor those of her crew who were capable of reflecting on the future, and providing for its probable contingencies, regretted this inaction,—forced upon them by the continuance of the calm. Indeed, although becalmed, the “Catamarans” were not inactive. There was work worthy of their activity, and which occupied them during the whole of the day. By the aid of oars,—several of which were fortunately in their possession,—they kept the new craft in constant motion; quartering the square mile of sea-surface, upon which floated the fragments of the ill-fated Pandora. Many a waif did they pick up, and stow away on their new craft against the contingency of some future need. Among other “floating fragments” Ben chanced upon his own sea-chest; which secured him a change of linen,—to say nothing of a full suit of “Sunday go-ashores” and variety of knick-knacks likely to prove of service on the problematical voyage he proposed making. The chest itself was retained to serve as a useful “locker.” The fourth day being spent in such fashion, the Catamarans retired to rest,—little William, at the request of the sailor, repeating the Lord’s Prayer, and ending it, by the dictation of the latter, with a short petition for a wind that would waft them to the westward! It seemed as if that simple petition had been heard and granted. As the sun once more rose over the ocean, its glossy surface became broken into tiny corrugations by a breeze blowing as if from the sun himself. The sail was run up the slippery mast; it was tightly sheeted home; and the Catamaran, rushing rapidly through the water, soon cleared herself from that fatal spot where the slaver had perished. “Westward ho!” cried Ben Brace, as he saw the sail swell out, and the craft, the product of his own skill, walking proudly away through the water like a “thing of life.” “Westward ho!” simultaneously echoed Snowball and Little William; while the eyes of Lilly Lalee sparkled with joy, as she beheld the enthusiastic bearing of her companions. <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2